


Unnecessary Fussing

by logosLycanthrope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Petstuck, Reverse Petstuck, may or may not been done before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logosLycanthrope/pseuds/logosLycanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you do not have the time to care for a pet human. Even if it is warm and fuzzy. And ridiculously endearing.  And looking up at you with those pretty, pretty eyes. (A slight alternative to the usual brand of the usual Reverse Petstuck AU. Something a little more... fluffy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Much Is The Baby In The Window

Humans. Not as fancy of a pet as they’d been sweeps ago, when they’d first been domesticated. Or rather, enslaved. You don’t really have a reason to fret over it. That event had happened a ridiculously long time before you were hatched, and the humans of today are nothing like their predecessors.

New humans are quadrupeds, only growing to the size of large woofbeasts at maturity, if that. They’ve retained their original pelt colors, reds, browns, black and various shades of gold. But it now covers them, fur instead of hair.

All changes brought in by the breeding program. Reverse evolution, working to create a creature from a time long passed that’d be harder to identify with. Humans would call themselves “weasel like” or maybe “lemur like”, if they could speak, and could remember the animals of their home world. Jaws extend outwards, teeth are set to fit, and speech is beyond their grasps.

But the silky fur, wiggly tails, and very, very pretty eyes make them attractive as companions, ensuring their survival.

Humans are the reason why you’ve found yourself standing outside a large glass window of the pet store. You have never wanted a pet. And if you did, something as delicate as a human seems like a lot of trouble and unnecessary fuss.

A new litter must have arrived at the shop earlier. Or, a few litters. Humans don’t reproduce quickly or in large numbers, but they make up for that with a lack of a mating season. Four human grubs tumble and wrestle in the pen behind the window, making the noises which had caused you to stop. Babies. That is what they are called.

Two have jet colored fur and particularly oversized teeth. The others wear a nearly white, yellow tinted pelt. They make a sound almost like laughter. It might have been that at one time. One of the dandelion colored humans slips away from the others and stares up at you. Its eyes are a shade of lavender. Its blood is red, you know that’s true of all of them. Human blood is candy-red by default. All stand on equal ground. Truly peculiar.

The baby braces against the window to be nearer to your eye level, then rubs its face against the glass like a meowbeast. You have heard that humans will mimic other creatures occasionally. You have also heard that they will do this around trolls in particular, for attention, affection, or as a primitive form of emotional manipulation.

You don’t want to give in, because you have no time for a pet and you will hold firm by your opinion on getting one and why is it being so cute and looking up so endearingly? You find yourself pressing a hand against the glass, justifying it as an action to block the view of the human’s endeavors.

That backfires, as the creature straightens itself out to look over your fingertips, putting its paws (almost hands, you note) on the other side of your palm. You find yourself able to finally tear yourself away, only to be pulled into the shop. The shop keeper is a brown-blood, and he looks oh so very slightly nervous at your entrance. You smile, fangs glinting white and healthy. He reciprocates, albeit anxiously. It smells rather foul inside the pet store, and if you weren't preoccupied, you'd wonder if it came from the animals or from the food they were selling for them. The cashier probably doesn't notice, since he's taking trembling breaths in through his mouth.

Turning away, you go to the other side of the pen, only to be met by the same baby from before. The gate is more than short enough for you to reach over it, but too tall for escape. The violet eyed creature grips the edge with its paws and stares at you, calm but pleasant.

You extend your hand towards it. Unlike most creatures, this one gives your fingers a thorough examination visually before sniffing them. Once satisfied, it tries to shove its snout under the digits, but it can’t reach far enough. It lets out eager grunts and strains to reach, giving you a desperate look that makes your blood pusher ache.

You bridge the distance, throwing self-restraint to the wind and petting it gently. It makes cheerful chirpy noises, which bring the image of newly hatched wrigglers to mind. You shake the idea from your head. Nothing alike. Grubs grow into trolls like yourself. This creature was just that, a creature. A thing that you have wasted too much time on.

You tell yourself that you are going to leave right now because the fabric store isn’t open all day and that ridiculous FLARPing outfit won’t make itself.

You say you are going home sans pet as you pick up the human and bring it close.

You remind yourself that you have no idea how to care for a human as you pick up one of the informational booklets near the pen.

You lecture yourself about not needing another mouth to feed as you reach for a bag of human-chow.

And you silently explain to yourself that you need the grist for fabric as you make your purchases, which include the aforementioned supplies, some unmentioned supplies, and the very cuddly baby that you'll never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Okay. I can explain. I never understood the Petstuck concept of Trolls. Paw feet and tufted tails are adorable, true, but when the situation is flipped, humans are almost universally unchanged. I doubt the Empress would want something so similar to trolls to be walking around, talking of blood based equality, making themselves a nuisance. I figure that genetic reverse engineering wouldn't be difficult. With humans as furry, non-verbal animals, she can have her cake and eat it to. Humankind is under rule, rebellion based on them is a ludicrous notion, and nothing can throw in a wrench. 
> 
> Rose is referred to as "it" here because Earthling Reproduction is weird. Like, imagine going to a reptile shop and trying to determine the gender of various snakes when you've only have knowledge of human anatomy. It'd be difficult.--


	2. Never enter a fang measuring contest.

Your name is… well, you’ll get one soon, and you are quite pleased with yourself. The troll that is taking you home is high enough on the hemospectrum to keep you living comfortably, but not high enough to snap on you and rip you in two without warning. She smells interesting. Surprisingly floral.

Quite the actress you are, a perfect performance. Starting a fight to get her attention was easy enough. The dark furred male didn’t seem to see well, nor did his female littermate. A little misdirection and they’d turned on your similarly colored brother. And though you feel the slightest pang of regret about abandoning your brother and new friends, and for using them to escape, you don’t dwell on it much. You must keep up the positive energy between you and your new caretaker.

The troll has been excitedly explaining that her name is Kanaya Maryam, and that she hopes that you enjoy your new home, and that she hopes Mother Grub likes you, and how soft you are, and some other jittering. You almost wish she’d relented with the shop keep and put you in a carrier. The way she’s clutching you isn’t comfortable, and is forcing your arm into your ribs. Oh well, it’s temporary.

Your new troll seems to be a very good fit. Her clothes and hair are neat, well fitted, and definitely in style. Something about her seems very wholesome to you, even if her teeth suggest a taste for meat foods.

You can feel a smirk start to curl the edge of your lip at a passerby trying to walk his… Fiduspawn, was it? Silly things, merely animals, slightly better than toys. You were raised better.

Most certainly. A well and proper human, unlike your brother, always making a ruckus. No, you enjoy fine literature… as well as not so fine literature, but it matters not. The fact that you can read could make you famous, like that woofbeast who sounded like it was talking. But you’d never let them find out.

It doesn’t really defy explanation. No, if you were to explain it, it’d be pretty straight forward. The hive you were born in housed many, many books, and as time passed, the breeder had started trying to teach his… you want to call the sort of thing a friend, but that isn’t right, how to read. The troll, exasperated with his student, had noted how intently you listened, and instructed his moirail, yes, that’s it, to read to you. The rest you picked up on your own. It became useful. Humans with quick minds had an edge, even before Alternia had become their home.

Now at three and two-thirds sweeps, you consider yourself a well learned pet, with many feathers in your cap. Language, some literacy, important facts about trolls, and a few pointless facts about your own species are all stored in your head.

You are shaken out of your memory and slightly swollen ego when Miss Maryam comes to a sudden stop. A cobalt blooded female with fangs almost as impressive as your new caretaker’s stands before you. She seems the opposite of Kanaya, dressed in ragged jeans, a worn jacket and a T-shirt, hair long and reminiscent of the nesting box you were born in. Although she shares a bent horn, the other one ends in a pinscher like shape.

 The blue blood’s lips part in a pointy, wicked grin. You dislike it, and feel your ears pull back, lips following suit. Your own canines aren’t as impressive, males tend to have bigger looking ones, and you’re still young. A perfect combination for a perfectly nonthreatening snarl.

She laughs. “How friiiiiiiightening!” Her mock concern makes your fur raise up “I don’t think you’d make much of a snack for spidermom, but if you insist, I’ll take you up on the offer.”

Kanaya only tenses a little bit. She knows this troll, because she doesn’t apologize for your actions immediately. And she seems unafraid of the blue blood. Almost as if the stranger was a friend. But she does bring you in closer, which seems to crush all the will from you to aggrieve the blue blood. As well as remove the air from your lungs for a moment.

“Vriska, I must inform you that this is my new companion. I would prefer it if they weren’t eaten, because I spent a lot of grist purchasing them.” You’re surprised about how quickly she had exchanged the somewhat hurtful “it” for the not at all hurtful “they”. Almost makes up for her interrupting the troll behind the register before he could explain that you were a girl.

“If you were lonely, I’d be totally okay with coming over, Fussy Fangs,” Vriska seems almost hurt, by the way a slight blueness comes to her face, and the drooping of the corners of her mouth. She recovers quickly “And if it gets lonely, it can go have fun with me. Sit on my shoulder during my adventures. Maybe even be a good Red Shirt if—“

“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” the words are quick and polite from the Jade blood’s throat and interrupt the distasteful troll. Well, it sounds polite to you. The way Kanaya tenses up even more makes it seem like she’s utterly mortified.

“What’s your deal? You’ve had that thing for like, five minutes maybe,” The claw horned female moves forward and leans in to look you in the eye. You have made a terrible mistake by starting this exchange in the first place.

Vriska narrows her eyes, and the air you had amazingly been able to pull into your chest hunkers down there. She has several pupils in one eye. It’s really disquieting, yet you can’t bring yourself to do so much as whimper.

“I’ll have to find out myself. For, what is Kanaya Maryam if not a trend setter!” Her tone is mocking again. No, teasing. No, threatening. And at the same time, kindly. You don’t get it. She waves a goodbye and leaves without a word. Horror sets in. You can guess where she’s going, and you know who’s going to die when she gets there. Or a little while after she leaves there.

There’s a short silence as Kanaya continues on her way home, and she awkwardly goes back to speaking. Mostly words of comfort that you aren’t aware you need until you realize you have stopped trembling, suggesting that you had been doing so for a while before then.

You go back to being friendly, albeit more subdued, willing to lean against her. She feels warm enough, and her calming words are borderline soporific. The electricity is gone, but the light remains in her tone. Your eyes close before you arrive at the hive. You are still young, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are now aware that humans are sentient. Which is good, because otherwise this would be a rather one-sided story. We'll get to Vriska in time, just not in this particular story. Thank you for reading this, and thank you for reading the previous chapter. Things get interesting in the next one, I promise.
> 
> Oh, and a Red Shirt is a term I've used in Pathfinder sessions for a character I'm willing to sacrifice to save the group. These characters are generally very generic ones that I haven't put much effort into, and don't mind if they get eaten by giant centipedes.


	3. The chapter in which contact is made. And Also When Another Character Is Introduced

You are Kanaya again. Again? Who else could you be? Perhaps a trembling thread on a fraying sash holding the aesthetic qualities of an outfit together, at the moment. Were your consolations for your new pet’s sake, or your own? You’ve stopped repeating “It’s okay. You’re okay” but you aren’t even sure if you directed it at the human.

Vriska did hold the key to your affections. Or, perhaps a lock pick. She was brash, violent. And unforgettable. She was like your very favorite tube of lipstick, except she never went back to being makeup and just stayed razor sharp all the time. Or perhaps never was lipstick to begin with.

She’s deep in your think pan, but you shift your attention to the baby you have balanced between your less occupied arm and your chest. It was surprising, how much fight the creature had in it. Them. You really wish you’d allowed the troll at the counter to finish. In your defense, it’d been easier if you hadn’t found out that the stench of the shop seemed to emanate from his jaws. You can only handle so much.

The creature is sleeping. That is honestly really surprising.

 Your arms are rather full of things, and getting into your hive will require some coordination. You never would have guessed that you would require so many accommodations for your pet.

Humans slept on soft things, and reacted poorly to sopor slime, so you needed a sleeping slab for them. You’d picked a round one with plush fabric and short walls. Human skin is sensitive, you had to buy special liquid soap, lest you have a smelly housemate. You also got a brush while you were at it. And of course, the usual pet supplies found their way into your bags. Bowls to hold food and water. Basic toys. A collar.

You considered yourself very lucky that they could not only be housebroken, but potty trained. Clever things. Not very, but at least somewhat. You had held your breath long enough to hear that the humans at the shop had been taught the latter. Which was good, an issue you wouldn’t have to worry about, a sandbox you didn’t have to clean.

You finally arrive home, and make it inside without dropping something. Preparations shouldn’t take long. The human yawns and looks at you blearily, expression showing confusion, concern, and then contentment. You put them down along with your other purchases and the pet stretches calmly.

“Is my hive to your liking?” You ask, for reasons you don’t bother wondering about. You do not expect an answer, so you feel more than justified in rubbing your eyes a few moments later. For in those moments, you swear the baby nods at you, then awkwardly tries to transition into a very troll-like rolling of the neck.

You kneel in front of them. “Hello?” The human responds with wide eyes and pulled back ears. “Do not be afraid, I mean you no harm. Do you understand me?”

* * *

 

You stop being Kanaya and are now the human.

This is bad. Horrendous. Game over. You’d been so pleased to be home, and it’d been everything you wanted and more. More inviting than your old hive, and warmer. You’d survived the run in with the other troll, and now you’ll suffer a worse fate, because you answered someone. Why did you even do that?

You’ve never questioned the importance of secrecy. Your brother had always done the same. You knew he could plan, estimate, recognize, and understand, so logically, you are not the exception. Every human you’ve known has always played off their intellect as only animal level intelligence. Because…

Well…

Why?

You can’t come up with a single reason why you should feign ignorance. Nobody ever told you to do it. You’d never seen something bad happen to a human who did do it. You haven’t even heard tales of something bad happening. It was just something you had to do. Because you had to do it. Like breathing.

Your ears return to their usual resting position and you nod at her. Gray hands fly to the troll’s painted lips and she stares silently. It lasts longer than you want it too, and you worry if the shock has caused Miss Maryam to suffer paralysis.

You walk over, noting that her eyes follow you. You stand on your hind legs and wave a paw in her face. That seems to snap her out of the trance, as her hands lower and she shifts into a sitting position, scooting back so she can cross her legs without knocking you down.

“I’m not entirely sure what I should say to you. Can you talk?”

You shake your head and return your paws to the ground. It isn’t easy holding yourself up like that.

“Perhaps you can write?”

You almost shake your head, then stop. You _can_ read, after all. Creating the words shouldn’t be difficult.

You sit up and place your paws in front of you, wiggling your fingers to mimic the motions your temporary care taker (and your parent’s matchmaker, you like to think) had used while typing.

“You require a husktop?”

You nod. She leaves the room. You’re tempted to follow, when a voice reaches your ears. It buzzes and Hmm-hmms in a surprisingly non-bothersome way. You turn and nearly jump out of your own pelt.

An enormous, bulbous head topped with familiar looking horns is the first thing that catches your eye. The head, like most heads, has a face. The smooth shape is interrupted by large eyes and lips suggesting a mouth big enough to swallow you whole. Finally, you can pull yourself from her face and look at the rest of her. Thin wings grow from her back and six legs sprout from her segmented body.

She’s a bug. A grub. A mother grub? Here? You’re fairly certain this wasn’t a cavern.

“What’s this? Kanaya, dear, could you come here?” She moves towards you. You hold still, in repentance for being so forgetful. Kanaya had spoken of her on the way over. This is indeed her lusus. An odd one, but indeed, her lusus. The large insectoid being picks you up in her first two legs to further inspect you. You smile awkwardly, hoping it translates properly.

Kanaya hurries over, computing device under an arm. “Oh, mother, that is my new human. They are… a very special human.”

You go limp, trying to signal that you weren’t going to put up a fight. Perhaps being harmless will get you to that keyboard faster.

“Special? How so?” Instead of letting go, the lusus shifts you into the second two arms and uses the others to inspect your limbs, face and tail.

“They understand what we’re saying right now. Don’t you?”

You nod, continuing to be as relaxed as you can while being held by a giant bug. Mother Grub’s eyes widen. Which is very unnerving.

“I’m sorry. I suppose you don’t like being so far off the ground, now do you?”

You nod and look to the floor. It’s a lie, your kind has no trouble with climbing and heights. **You** have issue with being held in segmented claws and being that close to this lusus.

She puts you down, and Kanaya places the husktop on the floor next to you, opening it, and then opening a typing file for you to write on. You put your paws on the keys and begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. I may have irritated some of you with this one. Yes, Mother Grub can speak. I always figured that Lusii can hold conversations with their charges in one way or another. I figured Crabdad did it through screeches, Dragonmom through Telepathy, and Aurthour and Mother Grub could speak in a straight forward way. Plus, she has a purpose here. A very important one. You shall understand.
> 
> And this was at first two separate chapters, but I felt Kanaya's half was too short, so I figured I'd do a 2x Narrative Combo.
> 
> I am also aware that the strangeness surrounding the humans bent towards secrecy raises more questions than it answers. Those questions will also be answered in the future.


	4. Watch My Chops Or Paws As The Case May Be At The Moment

You thought you had lost your mind several times today.

First, when you ended up with a human through an impulse buy.

Second, when you found yourself so attached to it that you’d risk your relationship with Vriska to defend it.

Third, when you had a conversation with it, however one-sided it was.

And now you’re pretty sure you’ve gone completely off the deep end, and stuck the landing. You watch as the human you bought as a pet starts to type. The process is slow going, as their fingers can’t stretch far enough to reach the keys without moving their paws, and they don’t seem to have done this before. The furry creature gives up and starts poking at the keys, one finger at a time.

They hit the backspace button a lot. You have no idea why they’re putting so much effort into this. Once satisfied, they pull themselves away from the screen and look at you.

That’s all it says on the screen. A lot of fuss for one word. But who’s got time to worry about that?

“Hello. Do you have a name?” You are expecting them to nod or shake their head, but they go back to typing. Another relatively long wait.

**No. Isn’t that is your job?**

You can swear that the expression they wear speaks of irritation. You could relate, having not asked for any smartass responses.

Mother Grub puts a claw on your shoulder, somewhat wiser than you. “What can you tell us about yourself, dear?”

You settle in for another wait. You notice that they seem to have to guess and check the spelling of their words until they feel the sentence is properly written.

**Well, for starters, I am a girl.**

You start to ask another question, but she holds up a paw to stop you. Surprisingly, you aren’t offended, too full of anxious static.

**I am not special. We are all like this.**

The simultaneous gasps you and your lusus let out are almost embarrassingly comical. The human snickers, you know that’s what she’s doing.

“Can you blame us? Your kind are animals. Well, I thought you were, and you haven’t gone out of your way to prove trolls wrong up until now. It really is somewhat of the unexpected.”

She’s smiling at you. Little shit. But you aren’t all that mad. She goes back to the keyboard to type. You use the time to look to Mother Grub. She seems to have recovered from the new developments, calmly waiting for the next message. The lusus notices you and nods.

**Can I have dinner now? I am hungry.**

As you read it, you hear a buzzing chuckle above you. You realize that you’ve started to grin too. Somehow, in all the strangeness, you’ve almost forgotten that you still need to feed the creature. She looks up at you, and lets out a whine, accompanied by a sad look.

“You do not need to do that. We’ve been conversing normally, after all.” You smirk, having the upper hand, surely.

This is met with her looking away, towards the ground. It’s really cute. Might as well get started with food preparations.

You go back to your forgotten supplies, and pull out bowls and the human chow. Holding the supper dish, you have to think about it for a moment. Should you really feed her that? Nobody would have taught her any table manners, she could make a mess. She’s weaving through your legs in excitement, urging you on with grunts and chirps. Well, if she’s that eager…

You decided to place the bowl on the floor near the surface you yourself eat off of. Turning the bag around, you look up the recommended amount to feed. Except it’s listed by age.

“How old are you?” You ask, hoping she can count. She raises a paw, showing three fingers. Three sweeps? Older than you thought.

The supplied scoop comes in handy as you measure out the correct serving. The stuff itself is unpleasant to look at. It’s similar to a grey-pink modeling clay, studded with what you think are dried fruits and a few nuts. Two scoops in the bowl, bowl on the floor, human practically in the bowl.

You note her teeth aren’t all that sharp, suited for plant matter, a maybe a little meat. A waste, really. She consumes it one handful at a time, rolling it into balls to make it easier to devour quickly. You can’t tell if she’s doing that because she’s so excited to eat, or if she wants to get it over with. You have to assume the former.

Tearing yourself away, you prepare your own dinner. Troll diets vary from Nepeta’s existence as an obligate carnivore, to Equius’s “Neigh herbivorous nature”. You are near the middle. Lean meats, if only to lessen the chance of grease stains, and colorful Alternian plants. You had been planning to make stew that night, but that would take too long at this point. You settle for chopping up some leafy greens and eating that.

By the time you and your lusus have sat down to enjoy a meal, the human has finished, and stands by your stool. You try to ignore her, but she scampers up onto your lap.

“Do you need something?” you ask raising an eyebrow. She motions to your dinner.

“I already fed you. Besides, this could make you quite ill.”

She looks hurt, but takes her leave and returns to the husktop, typing away.

You eat, wondering if this could be considered a normal situation now. Or perhaps you’ve become desensitized to the oddities. By the time you’ve washed the dishes and returned to your pet, she has completed whatever it was she was writing.

**Now that my needs, and yours, have been met, we should get to the task at hand. A name, perhaps. That informational booklet has tips you may find useful.**

She looks downright proud of the small amount she’s written. Even though it took her half an hour or so to write it. You’ll have to teach her how to write with more efficiency, if you want to avoid such long pauses in conversation.

“A reasonable request…” you murmur, picking up the booklet.

You really don’t like the added pressure of having to pick a suitable name for her. It no longer feels like it’s something just for you to call her. It’d be like naming a grub. That isn’t something you have been prepared to do. Ever.

“When naming their new human, many trolls enjoy using traditional Earth names, for a more authentic feel…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Made my self imposed deadline! Silliness aside, I made the mistake of pausing in the middle, and a lot of the second half of this or so feels weaker than the other. I tried. But, some more info. Rose has to guess and check each word, not inherently knowing the correct spelling, but knowing when she has made a mistake, so it does take her some time. I am also sorry for the poor representation of typed words. I shall rectify it as soon as I figure out how to make it prettier. 
> 
> The title is still going with the pattern of being written with the quirk of whoever is narrating. The title specifically references an older, animated cartoon titled: Corneil and Bernie. The line "Watch my chops" was sort of a catchphrase for the character Corneil, a talking dog not wanting to be discovered. The line repeats a few times during the opening.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and continuing to read. It makes me very, very happy.


	5. A trek beyond the walls of sleep.

You admit, you are being picky on purpose. As the troll scrolls through the web page on ancient human names, she reads each aloud. You gave “Anabelle” and “Lenore” a shake of your head, a disgusted expression on your face. “Alice” and “Dinah” were waved off with a paw. “Lidia” received a gagging sound.

This ought to teach her not to share. Perhaps it’d been unreasonable to be so offended by her turning you down at dinner. You were still hungry, even after the low grade human food. The stuff had been bland, you could taste every filler ingredient, probably list them by name. You were accustomed to the good stuff, more of a mixed bag of entire foods then a conglomerate of who knows what.

It didn’t matter to your stomach, in all honesty. It also didn’t matter that you’d received a proper serving. You were young, growing.

And therefore almost eternally ravenous.

You can see Kanaya’s increasing discomfort. She’s shifting slightly, full of nervous energy. You can’t imagine why. It’d been what, an hour? Enough for a proper punishment. You stop shrugging off her suggestions just to shrug them off, and pay attention.

“Rose?” she’s nearly pleading now, and this time you think about it. You knew what roses were. You’ve seen them in books. Pretty things, with petals that came in many shades. Sharp thorns ran up their stems. Pretty, yet respectable.

You nod, as nonchalantly as you can. The unexpected answer makes her flinch in surprise. You expect her to get mad, flustered, something. Relief spreads across her face instead. Oh well.

A yawn escapes you. It’d been quite a journey to get where you currently are. Kanaya had opted to half-kneel beside you, leaving a very open lap.

Who are you to deny such a welcome invitation?

You crawl into said lap, curling up slightly. In part, to be a nuisance, just because you can. She doesn’t seem to be entirely happy with you there, but you completely ignore her unspoken commands to leave. Commands she might not have made in the first place, as her thin fingers are suddenly running through your fur.

Petting is not the same as grooming. You’d spent more than enough time with your mother picking around in your pelt, too floored from a taste of the slime to realize she’d been doing it for longer than what was necessary. Petting is a little alien to you, but it isn’t unpleasant. Quiet, calm, and gentle when done right. Sometimes accompanied by pleasant scratching.

Kanaya’s nails are long, but in good repair. Grown for beauty, not battle. Not too sharp. She ghosts them down the back of your neck, starting at the base of your skull, runs them down your spine. A warm static like feeling flows over your skin, soothing.

You glance upwards, and notice she seems to be enjoy being on the other end, with a faint smile on her lips, eyes half closed. She’s looking down at you.

A quiet rumble passes your vocal chords, a purr. Unlike a meowbeast, you can only produce the sound on the exhale. She chuckles. Somehow, you like this better than making her miserable out of vengeance. A familiar sleepy feeling settles on you like a low lying fog, and you slowly slip to the mountains beyond consciousness, a landscape of dreams.

This dreamscape is not unfamiliar to you. It has all the right features. A large, toothy smile beneath fuchsia irises set in yellow eyes. The dark figure they belong to grabbing your arm. You yourself being much too tall, out of sorts, off kilter. The figure pulling you close, the scent of salt stinging your nose.

The location is just as nonsensical as any dream. It’s dark, and it’s outside. Smoke chokes and fire flickers like living beasts all on their own. Others nearby. Not trolls, no horns. Too dark for more information.

Rasping cries around you. Not human, clearly not human. Too… something. What? Clear? Troll-like? Your subconscious still proclaims that these anguished screams and sobs belong to your kind.

The figure’s breath is hot, and more strongly scented of seawater. You try to pull away, they grab tighter, begin to cackle. You lunge, try to sink your teeth into the arm holding you captive, but your body doesn’t move properly, your neck is too stiff, arms too short.

Another hand, at you throat, claws in your skin. Skin not shielded with fur. You can’t breathe. Everything is dark and hot and painful and sharp. You can’t scream, you have to scream.

And suddenly, softness, coolness. Quiet. The fogginess leaves faster than usual, mind racing to prepare for the worst. But there’s no reason. You find yourself in that sleeping slab that was provided for you. The curtains were shut, probably for your sake.

It’s dim, but brighter than the dream. Trolls would be sleeping now. You gather yourself and try to figure out how far you had been moved while sleeping. A soft, squishy sound reaches your ears. You whip around to look at it properly. The sleeping vessel of your troll. What were they called? You let the question leave your mind. Not important. The smallest amount of the tip of a pair of horns suggest that it’s currently occupied. Unable to sleep, you slink out of the room to explore.

Musical notes buzz through the hive, and you have to locate the source. Once you do, it takes effort not to freeze. The lusus again, this time examining some fabrics of various colors. She’s humming happily.

“So lovely. And such perfect stitching. Good enough for the empress.”

She’s murmuring in a way that doesn’t just state approval, but pride… and sadness? She just said it was nice, why would she be upset?

You announce yourself with a chirp, and she turns. Nothing seems to really startle her, does it?

“Oh, hello, Rose. Having trouble sleeping?” It’s weird to be addressed and be expected to answer. Even odder from a giant bug. But you signal a “Yes” to her.

Mother Grub puts down the material and moves over to you. It’s a bit like scurrying, though you suppose flapping her large wings would do damage to the structure you are currently in. You let out a bit of a chirp, ending it at a higher pitch like a question, while tilting your head.

“Oh, just admiring some of my little Kan-Kan’s newest projects.” You bite back a snigger. Kan-Kan? Oh, if you knew how to spell that, you’d give Miss Maryam so much grief for that. Only if she deserved it, of course.

The lusus continues “I never would have guessed that she’d have such a talent for it. She makes me so proud.”

Her words make your heart, too different to be called a blood pusher, sting with something akin to envy. You’d never know if your parents were proud, to be honest.

Your father acted like the world was one big game, and played far too rough. Your brother engaged him in these play-duels more often than you did. Your mother gave you attention, but it was a sloppy, stumbling sort of thing that seemed to only exist on the surface.

The breeder was also active in your life, but it was “good girl” this and “bad girl” that, when you really got to the core. Strange really. This was not something you should care about.

You pull yourself back to the real world. Mother Grub is smiling, it feels less frightening than the last time, but the fur on your back is threating to stand at attention. You trot past her to examine the fabric. It’s shiny, possibly satin, and red in color. A skirt? You chirp again.

“Clothing, dear. She’s quite handy with thread and fabric. Not enough trolls appreciate that. I’m surprised I haven’t seen any forgoing clothes and walking around stark naked, the way they dress.” She quiets down, voice turning introspective. “I doubt I’d think about it so much if it weren’t for her.”

Makes sense, you suppose. You feel something around you. The emotional equivalent of watching a wounded barkbeast bringing his owner a pair of shoes for the last time. But worse, a lot worse and a lot more beautiful. Why? So many questions all of a sudden. You do enjoy mental stimulation, but not like this. A yawn comes forth from your jaws.

You’ve forgotten about the dream, and are tired again. Putting down the fabric, you move to leave, but not before pausing and turning. There’s no gesture for “Good bye, I am returning to bed” that you are aware of. You let out what you hope is an appropriate sounding grunt and wave.

“I see you’ve become less restless. Sleep well, Rose.” She’s just as cheerful as she’d been in the waking hours, the melancholy tone gone. You make note and tell yourself to investigate the matter more thoroughly later. Returning to the sleeping chambers, you check to see if your owner is still asleep. The bent horn sticking out of… you really need to find the word, confirms that.

You hop back into your cushy sleeping spot, close your eyes, and fall into a dreamless sleep, a peaceful, quiet void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. Here we go, chapter five. This seems to reverse the situation of the last, the beginning of the chapter feeling weaker than the end. But, here it is! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and continuing to read!


	6. Upset Stomach

“Kanaya!”

Even through the thickness of the Sopor slime, you hear the buzzing call from your lusus coming from your nutrition block. You hastily scramble out, taking hardly enough time to wipe off the mess from your body, and barely a moment more to dress.

You enter, eyes wide, and within a moment, your hand has flown to your mouth to cover a gasp.

Rose is lying on the floor on her side, curled up slightly, but not in comfort. Her eyes are clamped shut, and her paws rest on top of her stomach, which bulges forward in a clearly unpleasant way. Her mouth is smeared with Pet food, her paws are caked in it, and there’s bits of it scattered among torn packaging on the floor.

“I found her like this, she must have gotten into the bag.” Mother Grub is rubbing her first set of segmented legs together nervously.

You kneel down by the ailing human. She opens an eye. Suddenly she’s on her feet again, tail puffed. Her eyes are wide. You look behind yourself, to see if someone has snuck up behind you somehow. There’s nobody there. Why is she—

Oh.

“I’m not angry, Rose.”

Upon hearing this, she collapses onto her stomach, then lets out a croaking sort of hiccup, eyes rolling.

You have to chuckle a little. The little human clearly is well enough to react that way, so she’ll probably survive this.

“I suppose you won’t want any breakfast then?”

A groan escapes Rose, and she shakes her head. Well, you haven’t gorged yourself silly, so you might as well make yourself something. And something for Mother Grub, of course. You look up to her. Your Lusus’s wings seem to be drooping ever so slightly more today than they were yesterday. There’s a slight sting to your nose, and your lower lip finds itself between your teeth. You stand there for what feels like an eternity, just staring.

She notices the look on your face, and smiles softly at you. “Kanaya, I believe I can pick some of this up. You should get yourself cleaned up, you’ve got green slime all over you.” She knows what you’re thinking, and she’s trying to get you to stop thinking about it. The least you could do is indulge her in that.

“I’ll be back momentarily.”

You return to your resting chambers to more thoroughly clean up. You make sure to get in the spaces behind your ears, and in between your toes. As you replace your clothing, and smooth the fabric down your form with your fingers, a quiet padding reaches your ears.

Rose has found the will to ignore her overstuffed belly and has entered the room, and she’s looking up at you, with curiosity, yes, but there’s something more intense about it, something begging a question.

“Yes, Rose?”

She walks over, puts her paws on your knee and stares at you, then turns away to the exit portal, then turns back to you.

“I’ve just finished getting ready, Rose, I’ll be out in a mome—“

She cuts you off with a huffing sound and what clearly looks to be a scowl. You get the feeling that impatience isn’t what has her in this sort of mood.

You raise your leg, bending your knee, which pushes her off. You didn’t want to have to resort to that, but need her to not be on your leg if you want to leave the room.

Which you do shortly after, and she follows. Mother Grub is diligently picking pieces of Rose’s early morning mischief off the ground. Rose runs past you, and joins her. This is an interesting turn of events. You got a pet yesterday, worried about having to care for it, and how much of a fuss it’d be, and here she is, picking up after herself.

It would’ve been nice if she’d done it earlier, but you aren’t going to complain.

You get to work on breakfast. You decide on something with lots of sweet fruit nectars, your Lusus’s favorite. Well, aside from your fashion mistakes. There was nothing stranger than watching her chew through a pair of socks at the dinner table.

You are glad you hadn’t picked up that mannerism.

As you finish, which isn’t very long after you’ve started, you can hear Rose chirp again.

“Why thank you. I’ll take care of these.” Mother Grub leaves, and you hear a thump as Rose finds her way onto the counter. It’s somewhat remarkable how agile she is. Even when stuffed to the gills.

She watching you again. You try to ignore her, pouring the nearly liquid substance into two bowls, and grabbing some spoons to set aside them.

Your lusus returns, and you motion for her to find a seat at the table. She obliges, and you join her, bringing the bowls along with you. Rose follows, hopping into the remaining chair.

“You can’t be hungry again already.”

She shakes her head. You really wish you could just speak to her directly.

She chirps, waving her paws as if to tell you to go on and eat.

And to think, all this within hours of getting up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been some time since I've updated. Most of my readers from before will probably not end up reading this, having moved on to something else. I apologize for the lateness, I sincerely do. I am incredibly happy that people enjoyed this up to this point, and I'd be gracious if you read this chapter as well.


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